


Learning the ropes

by Princerandling



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Inverted Nipples, Japanese Rope Bondage, M/M, Other, pec worship, pectoral worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-16 07:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21266999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princerandling/pseuds/Princerandling
Summary: This is written from Thranduil's perspective.I use gender neutral pronouns for you to readily interpret suiting your identification.I explored kinbaku, japanese erotic rope bondage, with Thranduil as a character. Kinbaku is fascinating to me.To define it, many say that, 'the rope is an extension of your will'. My understanding so far is that kinbaku is not about the aesthetic product but rather orchestration of the tied person's sensations until they reach 'subspace'.





	1. Kinbaku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The entire thing is broken into parts: "Later", "Contraband", "Demonstration", "What have you done to him?", "No more games", "If you say so", "Subspace", "Worship Me", (Pec Worship), (Inner Thighs), (Booty), (Cock and balls), "Ejaculation", "Afterword"  
I feel like its lengthy so you can use these phrases to skip to specific parts. The phrases with ( ) are specific descriptions of that body part's worship. This helps you navigate to or away from body parts you may be uncomfortable reading about.

I've noticed my captive, now turned servant, has been staring at me lately. When I notice, they shyly tear their gaze away. It feels suspicious which leads me to interrogate them later. 

**Later**

I have my captive kneeling before me. Again, shyly hiding their gaze. It's becoming a nuisance so I force them to face me as I grill them. What are they hiding from me? I finally see them and their face is flushed with blood. I see tears welling in their eyes and wonder if they aren't planning anything nefarious. Their eyes dart up and down as if they can't bare the sight of me. I find it endearing. 

I found out that they truly are just intensely enthralled by me. But also extremely shy about it. It's not surprising but their bashful demeanor is starting to get to me. 

**Contraband**

In the room I graciously provided for this servant, my guards have discovered ropes. I see that my servant has fooled me with their pretend innocence. This is some kind of foreign thread. Its bright red and admittedly finely threaded. The twine is sturdy as well as flexible. While I can feel the fuzz of its fibers, the rope's thread is elegantly smooth and refined. It seems like a lot of effort to put into a device of restraint. I don't know if this is just a different kind of rope from the land my servant comes from but the craftsmanship is noticeable. 

I interrogate my servant, now captive, again, using their own ropes to bind them as ironic punishment for their crafty lies. I use a noose tie to pull their face up to look at me so I can see through their lies. Through the blushing face and teary eyes, I'm told that these are "shibari" ropes from where they originate. The captive explained that they're used essentially in the same way I've used them to restrain their self. I try to find an explanation for why such bondage rope would be such an ornamental red color. Apparently they're used in some kind of erotic ritual. the captive will show me later, flanked by my guards in case they act on their true intentions.

**Demonstration**

Rather than let myself become the pawn of my captive, I've selected one of my most resilient men to expose the fallacy in this prisoner's lies. One of my guards keeps my captive restricted by holding the length of the noose around their neck. Any risk taken by this captive will be met with a slip of their noose. In such a manner I keep myself and my most trusted guard safe. 

I allow my captive to begin demonstrating this "kinbaku" ritual. The captive takes the rope and slides it along the guard's neck down to his thighs. As he kneels, my guard flinches as the rope strokes against him. The captive let's the other half of the rope slide down the other side. I do not trust this slave's feign of passivity and command my second guard to pull the noose. The captive does not seem to fight back, as they obediently release the rope they had around my guard's shoulders. Intrigued by their obedience, I command them to continue. 

The captive pulls the lengths of the rope that lay over my guard's neck to string them behind the back. They seem to be taking a careful steadiness with this tying. If this is how they constrain their victims, they are effectively useless at it. The captive then suddenly crosses the length against his shoulder blades. The rope wraps and loops around my guard's arms. Each pull and tie is aggressive and sharp. The captive strings each knot into a layered pattern down the guard's arms. Watching them, I see the captive is kneeling close to my guard's side watching with concentration to craft each knot with precision. Another sudden pull and my guard is pulled back onto the captive's chest and his head knocks back over the shoulder. The captive seems to finish the final knot with deliberate tugs while gazing into my guard's face. Then the captive gently pushes my guard back into balance and grazes his cheek with their own as his head passes off the captive's shoulder. I stare in wonder as I see the mechanisms of this torture. My guard grunts with discomfort as he is laid down back onto his knees by the captive. He stares at the captive with disgust and confusion as he cannot make sense of my captive's actions. He is tied forcefully with each knot but is also caressed with sensual touches. 

By the design of this captive's bondage, my guard is arched forward over his knees. Taking another length of rope, they brandish the rope between two hands. My guard and I both watch keenly expecting the captive to attempt another strangulation. Instead, the captive pulls the rope close to my guard's chest. The thread runs across his muscles, deliberately flossing the underside of his pecs. My guard flinches in response and turns to glare toward the captive. As he does, he sees how close the captive is to their cheek. Again, they confuse us with their careful and planned movements. The captive continues to slide the rope under the guard's pecs, hovering over his shoulder to watch his work, and gently breathes warm breath across his shoulder. My guard's face begins to blush in response. He moves to pull away and is suddenly tugged back by the rope under his chest. His pectorals lightly bounce over the rope as he lands back into the captive. 

The captive starts to move the threads behind my guard's back but I cannot see with detail. I stride over to look more closely and my captive strokes a hand across my guard's neck as his balance is resting against the captive's body. Unable to move, he groans with displeasure. I see now the captive has crossed the thread from behind and has brought it back to my guard's front. The captive holds him in place, patiently letting moments past so my guard can feel the heat of his body spooned by the captive's. Now carrying my guard's balance, the captive breathes against his ear and tugs at the ropes forcefully. His pecs ripple lightly again against the rope with each forceful tug. My guard's face is rosy now, looking away from both me and the captive in embarrassment. 

The captive gently pulls the thread across my guard's nape causing a light tug, lifting his muscles upward. Then with force they brandish the lengths in their hands to tie a knot against my best guard's nape. The guard gasps from the shift and watches his own pecs jostle from the rough tugs. This cups his pecs showing off the soft succulent muscle. Each muscle bulges out, spilling over the rope underneath. As they complete each step of the knot against his neck, each pull is sudden and deliberate. Yet between each tug the captive let's the guard feel hot breath pass their shoulder and face as they offer moments of respite.

The captive grabs a nearby rope for a new tie. Still carrying my guard's weight against their chest, they rub the taut band across his pecs. I watch in exhilaration to see my guard jolt from the ropes stroking his succulent chest. He whines from the sensual touch of rope. He does his best to ignore the concentrated gaze of the captive by looking away. His efforts offer the skin of his neck to bear over the captive's shoulder. The captive lightly brushes his neck with lips and my guard flinches away and vocalizes a desperate groan from feeling his vulnerable flesh touched by soft lips while the ropes slide under his pecs.

The captive loops this new rope through the thread that rests under each pectoral. The loop is threaded in the space between his pecs. Gently the captive braids the thread, letting the twine brush against the guard's sensitive flesh that lies between pecs. The captive finishes the braid and raises it to pull the bond that lies underneath, causing his muscles to shape into bulging squares. Each pull and tug on the ropes raise his pecs. Each side rebounds from each tug causing them to lightly flap over their ropes. His pecs hang over the ropes like breasts. I gaze at him with awe, watching him blush up to his ears. He cannot bear to meet my eyes as he's suffering this torturous pleasure. He does his best to stifle his moans but his body betrays his attempts to hide his arousal. As I behold his body cradled against the captive, I see his nipples erect through his garment. He sees me watch him as he feels the tips harden and whines with shame. 

The captive finishes the braid by crossing the end lengths back over his nape and ties another knot. His pecs are framed in place by crimson binds as if on display. He desperately looks at the ground. His balance is controlled by the captive, as they pull on his ropes to keep the guard's weight resting against their own body. The captive just waits. They just stare down at their handiwork and watch my guard's nipples rise from beneath cloth. They deliberately keep their head next to my guard's to let him feel his soft and paced breathing. My guard shows more arousal in his face and body. His ears become scarlet and we all hear is his belabored breathing as he succumbs to the feeling of ropes erotically squeezing his chest. 

The captive moves a hand to their front and we watch with caution for their next move. They gracefully string one finger up the braid that divides my guard's chest into bulging cleavage. The tension sends ripples of tingles across his chest and he whines from the sensation. No longer in control, he jolts as he feels each gentle stroke of the captive's fingers along the ropes. I'm watching confused how these delicate touches can force such dramatic convulsions in my beloved guard. I notice the cloth on his chest displays wet spots that spread. I move closer to see, hearing my beloved guard whimper from shame, and I find that his nipples are erect and sweating through the fabric. I glance to see the captive's expression and find a forced gaze away from mine. They seem to be blushing. I walk back to let the ritual continue. 

The captive gently rests my beloved guard back onto his knees. He is spared embarrassment now because his face is hidden while his back is arched over his knees. We all can hear his hot breaths now. His swelling pecs dangle under him. The captive takes another rope and strings it over the thighs of my guard. He lets out a yelp of shock from the sudden erotic sensation. The captive loops the rope around his inner thighs, causing the flesh to bulge through the tight red pattern. The captive connects these ties to my guard's calf, immobilizing his leg. I hear my guard panting from the tight sensual pressure that caresses the sensitive flesh of his thigh. All the ropes nearly come alive with each breath he takes. Each movement brings tension on the ropes and they pull back into his flesh, sliding and brushing his body with crimson bondage. 

He's not even being touched and I hear him groaning from the orgasmic sensations created by the tight pull of each knot and tie. I order my captive to cease the torture before he climaxes from the grip of his restraints. 

**What have you done to him?**

I decide I will untie my guard's ropes. Strangely, as I move to kneel behind him to free his arms I hear him gasp again. He should trust that I will not harm him. I grab a knot to begin untying and i feel him shiver. What has this captive done to my guard? With each layer I release, his breath halts and he twitches while heat radiates from him. 

Finally I unlock his arms and grasp the knot that is sealing his chest in place. This time I hear a melodic groan and stare back at the captive with distrust. What have they inflicted on my best guard? His resilience seems defeated by some tying of ropes. I untie the knot to release the squeezing of his pectorals and he cries out with ecstasy. 

He grasps my wrists and his posture relaxes against me. I see his face scarlet with intense euphoria. I slide the first layer of rope off from the upper chest and he arches suddenly with what are now uncontrolled moans. As I release the final ties that squeeze his pectorals into budding flesh his head knocks back against my shoulder and his whole body arches again. Another sudden utterance of ecstasy sounds and I see him turn to meet my gaze. His eyes are wet staring at me with heavy lids. He breathes hotly into my neck and drools with this expression of orgasmic completion.

**No more games**

I order the second guard to restore my beloved guard back to a resting place and I return ready to subject myself to this "kinbaku" witchcraft. I will expose myself to this sorcery if it means I can tame it. This captive is testing my patience as they maintain their mask of surrender. 

I decide to remove my garments to tempt my captive into finally revealing his true intentions. This must be their design. To bewitch my kingdom into surrender. They will not overcome me. I will undo their design even if it takes subjecting myself to it.

I command them to tie me with all their skill. They will give into the temptation to overthrow me. I will prove that they lie through that surrendering expression.

And so, the captive begins by passing rope across my neck down to my chest; the other end down the opposite side. The rope's abruptly force my shoulders back and I watch my chest push forward from the tightening of my arms behind me. My biceps are locked and my arms touch behind me as my captive skillfully and forcefully tie each knot. From the tight pull of my arms behind me my own pectorals are thrust into full exposure. On my knees I feel the captive's breath shift away from my neck as they reach for the next length. I stand on my knees, refusing to cower from this torture. 

Their gentle breathing returns behind me and I see them pull a rope in front of me. I anticipate they will bind my pectorals again as with my beloved guard. Confounding my predictions, they slide the rope down the muscles of my torso. I fight the urge to bend from the subtle grazing of rope across my abdomen. Still, I involuntarily exhale each time the rope slides across my abdominal wall. The muscles twitch as my skin feels the crimson binds slide down each layer of my abdominal musculature. I feel my face warm from the sensual touches of rope. At least I can hide my shame from this cruel captive. Is this some kind of mockery? I start to realize the torture is not the binding but rather the erotic stimulation created by the pull of the ropes. With my hands immobilized I cannot hide the sight of my cock beginning to engorge. 

I pray they do not move to see me from the front. I could die from the shame. I hear another rope slide behind me across the floor. I imagine this is also deliberate design. My captive knows I grow anxious at what's to come and taunts me with the sound of the next step. The end of the rope is tossed under me. I feel a hand graze my hip as they reach for the rope. 

I realize: each move is deliberate unlike any kind of restraint we inflict on our victims. This cruel captor controls everything I feel. They somehow manage to tease my mind by making me guess at each move they make. "What next?" They strategically hide from my view knowing that my inability to see them makes me afraid. 

Lost in my thoughts, I didn't see my captor grasp the rope toward its next path. I a jolt in shock from the sudden stroke of these ropes sliding across my inner thigh. They string the rope across my buttock and back down the other thigh. They wrap and knot the rope in place around each knee. I refuse to rest my posture. Then my captor pulls the other end to rub against my inner thigh. They knot the rope around my thigh and begin to string a pattern of knots across my thigh. The pattern they create crafts each knot so the loops hug the most sensitive part of my thigh. They tighten the loops to force my sensitive flesh to swell between each tie. They create a display of my inner thigh using the knots and loops to frame the sensitive section with acute precision. The swelling of my inner thigh increases its sensitivity. I suffer patiently as they frame the other inner thigh. They test their craftsmanship by grazing my inner thigh as they toss the end another rope under me. This deliberate touch forces a gasp and I feel my face flush more. The agony is not the bondage, it is the subjection to erotic imprisonment. They target the most sensitive parts of my body and carefully expose them between binds of crimson. The tight pressure of the ropes serves to increase my sensitivity. 

Satisfied from my response, I hear another rope slide toward me. I feel it tossed over my shoulder and it slaps my right pectoral. Such cruel and erotic precision. I look down to it and see my inverted nipples begin to puff with arousal. This is the art of humiliation. I thought I was a master of interrogation. I could not match this conniving manipulation despite my hubris. They let the rope drop down sliding across my nipple. Every movement is so precise and strategic. I can barely contain my voice as each strand of the crimson thread brushes against my nipple. I exhale a compressed sigh when the rope meets the floor. I hold my breath again as they slide the remaining rope across my left nipple. I bite my lips desperate to not reveal that I am succumbing to their erotic torture. 

I realize this bondage is intentionally slow and drawn out. Again, the torture is not the binding but the arousal balanced by the pain inflicted in the steps of the bondage. 

My own breathing becomes labored. I feel me ears are now hot and radiating. As if reading my mind, my captor kneels against my back and holds their face next to mine. Our flesh does not meet. They cruelly let the proximity torture my thoughts as they thwart each prediction I make. I feel them study my nipples and cock. I cannot hide my steady engorgement across both my cock and nipples. My cock begins to lift from the building arousal. I fight it with my thoughts as much as I can. They brutally pull the rope off of me, sliding the threads across each nipple. The sudden abrasion forces a gasp full of my voice revealing to my captor that their machinations are working in their favor. My cock twitches in response to the aggressive tug. 

In rage I turn to demean my captor but I meet their still and peaceful expression. They inquire, "Do you need me to stop?" My expression shifts from rage to defeated confusion. I turn away to ignore their mockery. I await their next move, bracing for the next impact. 

As I patiently wait, I hear nothing. No movement, no sliding ropes. I hear none of their intentions. They repeat their self after the brief eternity, "Do I need to stop?" I'm at an impasse. If I say no, I am defeated. But if I say yes, I will soon fail to control my composure. I decide to face this challenge with courage and command them to continue. 

Without words, they slide the rope past my feet. I feel them begin to tie each foot with the length of the rope loose between. I don't understand, as I expected them to tie my feet together to immobilize me. I feel the tension of a knot being made along the thread that connects each foot. Then a sudden tug nearly pulls me off balance. They loop the rope within the knots of the bondage of my arms and string me backwards with the tightening of this new connection. The binds of my arms pull against the binds of my feet. Now I am immobilized entirely. In such a humiliating manner. I feel my muscles start to ache from forcing myself upright. I hear them stand and begin to massage my shoulders. This time I accurately predict that they will force me down into kneeling. I sigh from the relaxation of my aching thighs. They tighten the connection between arms and feet so I'm forced into a seated position. 

As they stride to face me, I try to disguise my arousal with my crafted expression. I stare my defiance at them but even through this much elaborate torture, as they face me they continue to avert their eyes from me. This captor truly mocks me. How can you maintain such an innocent demeanor while stringing every will of my body into submission? 

As if to answer my thoughts they ask, "More?" I will not take this humiliation. I know they are asking me to beg for mercy. Behind that mask, I know they will subdue me. I must fight to survive this torture if it means revealing their lies. I will stop their insidious plans to uproot my kingdom. They may have strategically planted their self within my stronghold but they are still my captive. 

I refuse to surrender. I demand, “Finish what you’ve started.” 

**If you say so**

They kneel in front of me now. They string a thread between my arms and back. My abdomen sucks inward as I gasp anticipating their next phase. They've saved the most sensitive part for last. My eyes briefly glare with anxiety before I regain my mask of composure. I regrettably make the accurate prediction that now they will enrobe my pectorals into an erotic display. They begin by tying the thread in front on my chest and making the first knot. Then they braid the thread and seal the braid with a knot at the base of my throat. They connect the remaining ends back to the knots binding my arms. My feet balance me and pull the binds on my arm which now pull on the braid looped into the flossing thread beneath my pecs. My feet pull the ropes from my arms to the braid in my cleavage. The braid begins to pull the rope that lies under each pectoral up my chest but my musculature betrays me. The pectoral muscles are full from my developed strength and the mass of my pectorals fold over the rope. The rope will not slide off due to my own crafted musculature. With each breath I take, all ropes pull on me. The rope that now cups my pecs tugs with each breath. Each movement forces the pectoral mass that droops over their chords to bounce as the ropes pull against me. 

While averting their gaze I do notice them watch my inverted nipples silently. I cannot read them. I cannot tell what their desire is: to inflict pain or inspire arousal? Regardless the ropes achieve both. Against my will, my inverted nipples begin to flush with blood. I watch them begin to grow puffy and watch their response. I can read nothing. Somehow this is worse than knowing whether they enjoy the humiliating sight of my nipples engorge.My cock will betray my composure soon. The humiliation itself becomes arousing. 

They string another tie through the bind that hugs my biceps. They pull the rope through the right bicep and past the left. The stringing that brushes my skin through the tight ropes is painful and scintillating. I bite my lip before I let them hear my pained voice. Next they wrap each end around my chest above my pectorals. Now they've completed their masterpiece. Red bonds precisely frame my muscles into a swollen display. They weigh heavy over the ropes that frame them. The ropes refuse to slide past despite how the braid in my cleavage pulls up the cord beneath my pecs. 

I realize plenty of length remains and so they slide the rope back under the bind that cups my pecs. Two knots secure them in place and the length drapes down sliding across my abdomen. I watch terrified as i see the ropes will slide past my cock and against my inner thighs. I cannot contain my voice and they hear me gasp from the sensation. They tease my thighs my grasping the rope and gently lifting them so they continue to slide against me. My cock betrays me as I see myself halfway into a full erection. To my extreme embarrassment I leak precum. I cannot understand how mere ropes and slight brushes can bring me to such submission. 

They measure the remaining length and decide to string it around my ribs. They knot each loop until they frame the layers of my abdominal wall. They measure each layer of muscle with their cold fingertips and watch me twitch from their touch. With each gasp my pecs bounce over and over their bonds. Despite the cool atmosphere, my body now radiates with heat. Sweat begins to collect into drops that race down my body. With each groping measurement of each segment of my abdominal wall, my lungs suck my stomach in. With each inhale my captor swiftly locks my form with tight binds. Each layer of my abdominal muscles is precisely framed now in crimson thread. My breathing struggles against the tight compression of the ropes. The ropes squeeze me and with each fight for breath, I feel the sensitive flesh of my inner thighs and my pectorals squeezed by twine. 

Watching my body, my captor tugs on the ropes to torture me more. I feel their tugging, brushing my thighs, squeezing my chest, and squeezing my lungs. Then I feel loosening. My captor changes the tightness of the bands framing my abdominal muscles to give me more space to breathe.

They return to my view and cup my cheek in their palm before they say, "I'm sorry. I went too far. Shall I stop?" I cannot make any sense of their cruelty. Each of their actions works to betray my comprehension of their plans. Doubt enslaves my mind. I must not trust them. Each of these paradoxes are the design of their deception. I will not give in. I demand they proceed until their plan is fulfilled.

My captor reveals they have no more ropes to use. Again, they have trumped my own plans. How will they proceed if this is not the end? I wonder anxiously, “What more can they do?” 

As I wait for an answer, no longer trying to anticipate their next maneuver, I feel how each breath initiates vibrating tension through the ropes that bind me. They pull and stroke my flesh inflicting unyielding arousal from my thighs and my pectorals. 

**Subspace **

Finally, they explain, “In kinbaku, we do not finish when all the ropes have been tied. We are done when you fall into subspace.” That is all they offer. And that is all I choose to hear. It doesn’t matter what I ask, I will not believe them. 

I watch them take their next step. I wait patiently, bracing myself for their final acts of torture. They move behind me and I brace myself for a brutal tug on my ropes. I feel the soft warmth of their palm caress my neck while their other hand gently grasps my shoulder. I feel myself lose balance as they pull me back. Yet they do so in the most tender manner. Their hand slides from my neck to my left shoulder and grasp a firm grip with their palm and the beginning of their fingers. They are careful not to dig into my skin with their nails. The other hand reaches under my chest to tilt me back. I feel my weight slowly ease into their frame. They carry my weight against their body as they sit behind me. 

The tie connecting my feet to my arms forces my legs to unfold exposing my near full erection. This is another one of their display tactics; another way to humiliate me. They caress my neck into relaxing my head against their shoulder. This stretches the braid that sits in my cleavage, again pulling the succulent mass of my pectorals. I wince from the intense pleasure. They don’t seem to give in to any voracious lust as I expect them to devour me with their desire. All they do is breathe against my skin. Their hands just slide along me. I turn to see their gaze studying my body. 

I feel their hand slide off from my abdomen. They wrack my body with shivers as they flick one of the many ropes that bind me. I’ve become an instrument of erotic play. They flick and my pecs are flung by the pull of the rope underneath. They flick incessantly causing them to ripple. The weight of my muscle adds to the stimulation where my nipples fling with each bounce of the mass. Their breathing doesn’t change. My deep and heavy breathing quickly races into ecstatic panting. From the flailing caused by the ropes that cup my pectorals, my nipples continue to engorge. We both watch as the tips start to poke through the inverted fold. In their body heat, I continue to perspire. As my sweat beads into drops, the droplets splash off from each swaying muscle. Each pull of the rope slips the thread that cups my pecs upward. But with their fullness, the pectoral masses bounce over the rope with each slip of the thread underneath; the rope will not pass over them. The ropes framing my chest are not merely ornamental. They functionally inflict intense pleasure from the tight bruising grip. They force my pecs to swell with blood. My face goes scarlet as my captor continues strumming the thread that hugs my pectorals. Rapidly, they jostle my pecs by tugging a thread that pulls on the cord flossing my muscles from underneath. Like a puppeteer, they force my pecs to bounce up and down by their control of the strings that bind me. I am helpless to watch my muscles sway with each tug. My areolas swell more as I feel the air whip past with each sway of my muscles. I feel the sweat splash from my chest onto my sides and arms. My toes curl from the orgasmic sensations piercing through me. The captor abruptly stops. I catch my breath from the racing panting. Even after they stop, my breath causes every rope to tense, still gently lifting my pecs with each inhale. 

As I begin to wonder why they’ve slowed, we watch the sweat freely drip down across my chest. Drops crawl through my cleavage, over my pecs, over my nearly un-inverted nipples. Their heads poke slightly more past the puffy areolas that encase them. My eyes glaze over and my vision starts to blur. I hear a quiet gasp from my captor and come back into alertness. I watch their gaze and trace it back to my chest. Two drops of sweat begin to travel down. Their trajectory cross directly over my areolas and I feel the moisture sink in. The wetness that surrounds the heads helps them release more. I tense in response and feel an orgasmic tingle dive through my body. 

My captor gently kisses my neck with the surface of their lips. They do not apply any pressure or wetness. As rough and brutal as their tying is, the way they use their hands and body is as gentle. 

From the jolting of my frame during the intense pectoral engagement, my balance has shifted and my captor pulls me back into balance. In doing so, I feel a slimy wetness as my toe slides across the floor while my captor restores my posture. I glance beyond my swollen chest and find a pool of my precum below me. My captor hears me grimace with shame and hugs my head to theirs, clutching my cheek with their hand. “Do not worry, this is normal,'' they inform me. 

Despite my state of rest, the ropes continue to slide back and forth along my body with each breath. Now moreso, as I become drenched with sweat. My captor finishes with the pectoral strumming and moves their hands. One hand reaches to feel my precum and stretch it between their fingers. I watch them stare in bashful glee. I can only sense a hand moving somewhere along the ropes. I estimate that they will engage my inner thighs next as that is one of the other parts of my body, framed for display. This time I am accurate as they shift my position for my thighs to be comfortably reachable by their hands. Despite how slowly and softly they cradle my body, the displacement of my feet tugs the braid between my cleavage, pulling once more on my succulent muscles. I softly groan from the delightful pull. 

My head now rests against their neck as my body finds its positioning ideal for my inner thighs to be engaged by the ropes. My cock twitches now, fully swollen with blood. The precum freely seeps out now. It falls off my tip onto my lower abdomen. Watching it pool onto me makes me flinch with arousal. My pecs lightly throb from pulling ropes and now my thighs feel the wet binds slip around me. My sweat has coated the threads causing them to more easily brush and slip over and under my skin. My captor gently pulls the thread on my right thigh, forcing the rope to squeeze the tender sensitive flesh. Even as they release, the slipping thread continues to stimulate me. They try the other side and I gasp from the sensation. 

They pluck the threads on both sides now, sending orgasmic waves throughout my body. Along with each of their tugs, the ropes behind me pull the frame cupping my pecs. My body quivers from all the sensations: my inner thighs being groped by slippery threads, my succulent pecs tossing from each jolt I make, the thread sliding under my pecs, my nipples brushing against the cool air with each bounce. I nearly come from this treatment. 

In what sounds like elation they tell me, “We have finished our kinbaku demonstration, my King.” They cradle me back into my seated position restoring my balance onto my knees and feet. They wait for me now. This is how they enact their insidious cruelty. Behind that kind and gentle face, they contain a savage endless yield of patience. I’ve subjected myself to their ritual waiting for the moment they enact on their plan to overthrow me. Yet here I am craving more of their torture. In their ruthlessness, they just sit there watching with bright eyes and a simple smile waiting for me to beg for them to continue. I realize this has been their plan all along. This is how they will dethrone me. Not only did they prove me wrong, they subverted my strategy.

Enraged, I’m about to summon my guards to slaughter them then and there. But as part of their elaborate design, I would humiliate myself before my men. This servant has truly thought out everything. I can do nothing. As I demanded from the beginning, they will demonstrate the ritual of these crimson bonds to prove to me that in their capture they plotted to subdue me and take my lands and people. Yet they’ve proven their innocence. 

I will never relinquish my authority. They knowingly trapped me into a rapture I will crave now till eternity, knowing that I am too stubborn to trust their kind and gentle self. Mistrusting their devoted surrender, I’ve forced myself into my own carnal trap. But I refuse to beg for more. I refuse to beg. I will pull myself from this trap by taking command of this ritual. If I can trust their surrender to me to be genuine, they will obey my command. I take the risk, swallowing the remains of my pride. Maybe I've been wrong to mistrust them all this time. There is only one way to find out now.

**Worship me**

_ (each zone will be identified to let you decide which of the King’s body parts you’re comfortable reading about) _

**(Pec worship)**

I take the risk. I make my demand clear, “You are not done. You will finish what you’ve started.” I see their perplexed expression and before they can question I continue, “You will obey me and do as I say.” I will not be their prisoner even if bound by their crimson ropes.

"Okay!" They squeak hiding their face in their typical manner. My anxious dread melts away. I've created my own trap from my stubborn doubt. I've made myself prisoner all this time. Their torture proceeded only from each of my commands. Their intentions were pure all this time. I adopt a newfound trust for my dear servant. And hearing their delighted acquiescence, I rejoice in my restored sense of authority. I feel my heat resurge through my veins and flood my chest. 

“What do you need, my king?” They ask shying away from my gaze. 

I will orchestrate every move now. “Resume your engagement of my chest.” 

As I see their talented hands reach forward, passion strikes through my body. My chest muscles ache within these cords. My nipples throb with desire. I crave more of their delicate groping upon my pectorals. 

They pause frozen by their bashful infatuation with me. While normally endearing, I am throbbing with hungry anticipation. 

"DO NOT MAKE ME BEG!" I would smack them if I had a free hand. I cannot wait! Do they not see me at my limit?!

"I know, I'm sorry! Is it truly ok?" The irony of them asking so bashfully despite being the sadist controlling my body only moments prior is not lost on me. 

"YES!" I shout. The frustration is nearly making me lose my erection. 

They poke their fingertips towards my nipples. I gasp in anticipation and twitch upon feeling their touch against my swelling areolas. I let them hear my voice as I am gratified by their delicate groping. I feel their hands tremble with embarrassment. They rub their thumbs around my puffy areolas. The tips of my nipples begin to pulsate inside along with my cock. They abruptly remove their hands and I glare with annoyance about to scream with rage.

"May I taste them?" I hear them plea, hiding behind their hands again.

"WE'VE COME THIS FAR AND YOU FEEL THE NEED TO ASK!?” I yell my frustration. This servant is undeniably a paradox. 

"I'm sorry! I will be gentle” they whimper. 

I sigh in irritation and watch them proceed. If they make me wait a second longer, I will not be held responsible for the punishment they've earned. 

I get to feel their hot breath cloud around my right pec. I feel the wet point of their flexed tongue dig into my right areola. In a brief moment, I admit to myself that I am grateful for capturing this one. Their tongue slides through the engorged areola and they make contact with the tip. On contact, my body lurches from the sudden orgasmic shock and my aroused pecs jostle over their crimson threads. I hear myself again. Every flick of their tongue makes my cock twitch. I’m impressed by the effort they devote to coaxing my nipple’s tips into exposure. Not unlike myself, my nipples are defiantly stubborn and refuse to unfold. My devoted servant tries a different approach. They swirl their tongue around my areola before placing their lips around it. I hear myself groan through biting lips as the intense pleasure makes my cock seep precum that drips down my thigh. They continue the oral massage and with sudden force suck my nipple and areola into the vacuum of their mouth before pulling off. I nearly come from the violent suction. Regaining my composure, I see my servant was successful in unlocking my nipple's tip. 

With my right nipple completely freed and uninverted, my servant moves to the left nipple and devotes the same treatment. Their right hand massages my right pec, teasing the underside with fingertips. I feel my sweat moisten the rope underneath. They cup and squeeze my pec as if milking me through my nipples. As their hand wraps around the muscle it carefully slides and squeezes my blood into my areola and my exposed nipple. I hear myself gasping breathless from the milking. Bewitched by this foreign massaging, my eyes concentrate on my right pec. I am caught off guard as I feel another mighty pull on my flesh from the vacuum of their mouth. The brutal pull from my pec makes me gasp with lustful surprise. I feel my face warm from the shock. My dear servant has succeeded in sucking my left nipple out from my areola. My cock throbs with tingling closeness. I nearly came from the force of their triumphant suction. 

They shift to milking both pectorals now. I watch entranced by this orgasmic massage. These hands know how to pleasure this body. They've unlocked divine sensations I had never dreamed of. They switch to alternating their milking between each side, playing with my anticipation. Each nipple tweaks with ecstasy. My pectorals pulsate from the deep massage. With each grasp my cock leaks and twitches. I allow my voice to sound and I shamelessly hear my own moaning. They return to sucking my pectorals, starting by taking in as much mass that could fit within their mouth. As with their hands, they proceed to suck from muscle to areola to nipple. They guide the blood from muscle to nipple using their tongue and lips. They alternate their sucking on the general mass of my pectorals with focusing suction on my areolae and nipples. Their tongue slurps on me with undulating pressure. I feel their mouth maintain its seal upon my areola as they use their skillful suction to stretch my tips further out of my folding areole. I command them to pause and their mouth gently releases off me. Both of my pecs now glisten from their oral worship and I feel their saliva drip off my freed tips. They gleefully behold the fruits of their labor and examine how my muscles spasm and my nipples tweak with sexual gratification.

Now my mission is to hold back until they make it to my cock. I want everything worshiped. 

** _(Abs)_ **

After both pectorals have been devoured by their worshiping mouth, I command them to lick all the sweat off my abdomen. Their neck brushes against my throbbing cock as they work their lips and tongue across my body. They trace my muscles with a trail of saliva and their tongue tastes every inch of me. As the muscles of my torso spasm with ecstasy, I feel the ropes respond tugging on the rest of my body. The ropes tease every inch of my erogenous zones. I jolt with each sucking kiss that I receive. With each jolt the rope flips my pectorals over their thread. The air alone that brushes past forces each nipple to involuntarily spasm. Their worship has made my chest embarrassingly sensitive. I cannot hold my climax for much longer so I request more rope. 

"Find more rope and bind my cock. I want to last longer." 

They freeze from bashful excitement. They endearingly gaze up at me with awe until I yell at them again to hurry up. I have to wait for them to find and return with rope so I will not let them waste anymore of my time with their timidity; no matter how sweet it is. As they return, I track their stride and they continue avoiding my eyes but they cannot hide their adoration for me because their complexion glows with blood. I feel myself smirk in amusement and I watch them kneel before me with the remaining rope they've scavenged. I watch their surprise and hear a gasp as they behold all the precum I've been leaking; its trail is linked from my tip to the pool on the ground as their staring arouses more of my leakage. Counting the wasting seconds, I remind them to continue by clearing my throat. They clumsily proceed, struggling to get an effective grasp on the length of twine. I'm dumbfounded by the juxtaposition of their prior adept binding with their present fumbling with twine. They awkwardly try to wrap my shaft with trembling hands. After 3 attempts they finally manage to tie a proper seal. I sigh and think to myself, "I do not care whether this was genuine bashfulness or disguised teasing." Somehow the frustration has helped me prolong my stamina. 

** _(Inner thighs)_ **

Next I command them to worship my thighs. With the same powerful force, they suck on my inner thighs. They force the flesh to bulge between the ropes as they suck on every inch. I can hear the intense sucking. Each pull of their mouth off my flesh is satisfyingly audible. I hear them slurping voraciously as they slide their hungry mouth across my doughy flesh. The noises alone are ravishing. Having covered every inch, I feel their saliva begin to drip off me as they retrace their path. Despite the tight ropes constricting my lungs, my breath is deep and heavy albeit slowed. I nearly drool as I can hardly contain my euphoria. We both hear my heavy panting. I can feel welts spawn as the skin pinches inside their sucking mouth. I let them continue until both sides become wet from their oral devotion. As I watch their face slide across and between my thighs, I relish in vengeful amusement watching my overflowing precum drip onto their face. From under the webs of my leakage and my throbbing cock, their eyes occasionally meet mine. Each time, they adorably flash their gaze away. Somehow, seeing such a sweet devoted face become covered in my fluid while they worship me is additionally arousing. Despite averting their gaze, I watch them intensely and track how my precum drips a pattern onto their nose and cheeks while they travel across each thigh. I can feel their face radiating heat from dulcet embarrassment. I watch their ears turn scarlet underneath my erection. 

** _(Booty)_ **

I command them to move onto a new part. I test their loyalty by requesting the same oral fixation to be applied to my buttocks. They happily oblige. They lie down, slide their face underneath, moving past my thighs and groin, and assume position. Before I can specify the treatment I desire, my train of thought freezes. I feel them grope my cheeks apart and slide their tongue up and down me. Somehow I've become the bashful one and order them to stop before traveling deeper. So instead, I request a massage similar to my pectoral treatment. I feel gentle kisses alternate with intense sucking across the flesh of each cheek. 

As they demonstrate their oral worship upon my back, my precum drips down onto their neck and clavicle. I wonder to myself if they can feel it. Witnessing it myself, it delights me with perversion. I watch myself pool precum down into their clavicle. I decide I don't want to wait any longer and command them to finish me by worshiping my cock and testicles. 

** _(Cock and balls)_ **

They cradle my testicles in their fingertips. With gentle subtlety they ready my cock for climax by dancing fingers under my sac. They grace the skin with their lips and lightly suck and taste each testicle. My moans are broken by gasps with each subtle brush of their tongue. I smile perversely seeing my slime drip over their brow and eyelids. I feel their hot breath all around my crotch. They coat the skin of my balls with saliva before they softly suck each testicle. My entire body flinches with each suck, jostling my plump pecs. I feel the underside of each muscle tap on the skin of my chest with each bodily twitch. Likewise, the ropes grip and slide on my wet thighs, rubbing the peaked doughy flesh. This wonderful synchronicity of pleasure is owed to the elaborate design of their binding.

After my balls are coated from their oral massage, they shift their face so they can mouth my shaft. They cutely rub their face along it, sliding my precum off my shaft onto their cheek. They risk a glance at me and I meet their cheeky gaze. I watch their lips curl into an embarrassed smile. They open their mouth over the head of my cock and let their breath moisten the skin. I'm thoroughly impressed by each deliberate and calculated step in their erotic strategy. Their sweet and surrendering demeanor has belied their unending creative perversion. Their lips close around my tip and they swirl their tongue around the head. They let the saliva drip down past their lips. They push my hair down out of the way to clear a path.

I'm dismayed when they suddenly pull their lips off me. My head tilts from confusion and they watch me. I see their tongue hang out while gazing into my bewilderment. Their eyes see mine beg for more. Then I suddenly feel their saliva drip onto my head. Watching me, they smile as they hear me gasp from the touch of saliva. Is this a technique invented by their people? The saliva cools as it drips from their tongue to my tip and I realize the benefit of such a strange tactic. I audibly wince with surprised pleasure as I feel each drip land on me. As the saliva aggregates into a flow over my shaft, they begin to brandish me with their warm palms. The slime of my precum and the wetness of their saliva make their palms audibly squelch as they slide back and forth. Pumping my cock, they return their mouth and demonstrate the skill of their suction on my shaft. Everytime they slide to the tip I feel them swallow our fluids. After each swallow they dig at the underside of my tip with their flexed tongue before diving back onto my shaft. They find every sensitive spot on my cock and tease it with their mouth. They are a perverted master of detail.

Like they did upon my pecs and thighs, they suck their mouth off my cock. I feel the tight pull of my flesh as the vacuum of their mouth holds me until their lips pull off. The sound is incredible, hearing the lips suck off each time. And with each pull, I feel strands of saliva and slime shoot off and watch them fly in strings through the air. Some strands land on their face and I hear their voice hum gratifyingly. I feel as if they could suck my semen right from my balls, their sucking is so powerful. I briefly wonder, “Where does this one learn these techniques from? I’ll find out later.” 

My precum flows into their mouth and coats me as they slide up and down. The more precum I release the thicker their sucking becomes. The sound of their mouth slurping the thick fluids along my shaft would be enough to arouse me from flaccidity. I'm so close but I feel as though I’m lacking something. Watching their head slide back and forth across my shaft, I notice my pectorals spasm again. I feel them hungry for more worship. 

**Ejaculation**

I ask them to stop and to shift their oral devotion back to my chest. My nipples are visibly twitching and my pectorals swell to the point of completely smothering the thread underneath from view. I tell them I'm extremely close but I want them to finish me by worshiping my pecs. Their fingertips tease me, lightly touching the tips and areolas. I will not stand the teasing and order them, "worship me properly." They start twirling my tips between their fingers and thumbs. I can tell this will be prolonged to as far as I can take. But perhaps the climax will make up for the agonizing protraction.

Next they squeeze my areolas, forcing my tips to poke beyond their fingers. They kiss them first before sucking the tips out of my areolas. I'm almost there. My cock throbs, twitches, and drips a constant flow. They forcefully pull their sucking mouth off my nipple. With each drastic pull my entire pec jostles. They tickle their fingers under each pec, causing them uncontrollable spasms. My moans are broken by gasps as my whole body swells from the synchronization of pleasure.

Then their hands grope each swollen pec. They cup their fingers around the areolas and nipples to squeeze the muscle in their fingers. As they milk each pec they flick the nipple as their hand reaches the end of its grasp. I hear myself whine as I leak and leak. I'm so painfully close. 

They cup my muscle into each palm and push them up and let them fall back into place. Each toss makes the rope underneath slip and rub my skin. My nipples also wave each time my muscles are slapped up by their crafty hands. They continue slapping my pecs up and we watch them jostle back down. The flesh bounces as it lands back onto my chest. The air brushes past my nipples each time they juggle each pec in the air. The air feels sharp and cold, forcing my voice uncontrollably now. From the inertia, my nipples briefly pull opposite the mass of my muscle each time its juggled up. We watch my nipples swing up and down as their hands continue to toss my pecs up and down. Each swing makes them ache with pleasure as the inertia makes them feel pinched as they momentarily resist the momentum of my juggling pecs. How does this foreign servant learn all such a variety of strange ways to inflict such a range of pleasure onto a body? As my mouth remains open from my aghast shocks of pleasure, I feel the overflowing saliva drip off my lips. I shamefully allow myself to give into all the ecstasy I'm subjected to and I do not care to hide it. They feel a drip touch their hands while they jostle my pecs around like dough. I hear a shy gasp followed by a devilish chuckle and I see them flash a perverted grin at me. I feel their hands grope me, squeeze as they pull off my flesh, and stretch my nipples between their thumbs and finger before they release my pecs from their grasp. Now I am dazed with erotic passion and almost loll my head back from the exhausting massage. My chest heaves up and down with deep breaths. The ropes remind me I will get no respite from the orgasmic sensations and they too stroke every inch of my skin with every breath. 

They grab a length of rope and as I watch them ready it, I gasp with anticipation. I beg for it even though they're already brandishing it up to my chest. They draw the rope across my chest and pause, this time intentionally cruel, and smile at me waiting for my response. I beg them, "Yes. please continue." They answer by adoringly planting a sweet kiss on my chest and proudly brandish the rope before me. It presses against me and I feel myself drool with desire. The rope slides up and down my succulent muscles. Each nipple is tugged as the rope slides up against my pectorals. The design of these ‘kinbaku’ ropes makes each strand textured enough to grip every inch of skin. I feel each individual thread tug the skin of sensitive puffy areolas as the rope slides against me. The crevices of the threads pinch my nipples between them as the rope rides upward. My servant watches with bliss as the muscle’s succulent mass bounces back into place each time the flesh is released from the rope’s friction. My beloved servant slides their divine rope over my succulent pecs until my flesh glows red. My rapid breathing makes them practically jiggle now and I shamelessly feel my nipples swing with each jostle. I can tell this will fulfill my demands. I tense and feel my shaft tighten as I'm about to release. 

One last time, they grab both of my pecs. Each muscle in a handful. Framing my areolae between their thumb and index finger, they pull the masses with the rest of their hand into the braid that sinks into my cleavage. As each mass touches together between and over the braid from their juggling, the sweat pools in the crevice and drips down my abdomen. They swing my pecs together while brandishing my nipples in their thumb and fingers. I feel the sides of their remaining fingers slide on the sensitive edge of my muscles. My pecs mold around their fingers while they juggle them together. My drool drips into my cleavage. I’ve lost control and my mind drowns in euphoria. I lose my gaze as my eyes gloss over under heavy lids. I sense their eyes watching me fall into ecstasy. My sweat pours into the crevice of my cleavage and drains down my muscles and down my thighs. I feel the sweat droplets fling off my pecs as they swing back and forth through the air. My head lolls slowly side to side as I’m consumed by pleasure. My body is imprisoned in ropes and ecstasy leaving only my face and head free to react to this sexual synchrony. 

My dear servant adjusts their fingers to hold the sides of my pecs within their palms. Each finger no longer grips onto any part. Then their fingers flap along the sides to cause my succulent muscles to undulate inward towards my cleavage. This is a modification of the prior juggling inward. Now the sensations localize to the sides of my muscles and I discover a new unique spot of sensitivity. Their fingers fold into the muscle making the mass wave and ripple inward. I’m wincing as I’m seconds close to coming and watch my servant massage my pecs. 

My servant abruptly pulls their hands off and watches me watch them with begging frustration. My eyes refocus and I see another cheeky grin while they obediently await my order. They tease me with their waiting but I'm too euphoric to enrage. As my mouth opens and I begin to voice my command, my speech is cut off. Their swift hands grip my nipples in a fierce pinch. They violently grope my pecs and forcefully squeeze their hand off from mass to tip. Their milking is brutally intense now. It feels as though they expect to force lactation with their powerful squeezing. My expression is aghast as my eyes wince from the violent pleasure. I contain my pooling saliva behind biting lips but my voice whines through. 

In one last act, they insert one fingertip into each nipple, plunging the hard head inside the swollen cushion of my puffy areolas. They grope the mass of each pec in the rest of their hands and jostle them around in circles. Again, I am shocked at the strange skills they possess that wrack my body with a gamut of orgasmic sensations. Their fingertips dig and swirl my tips inside my areolas while the muscle of my pec is juggled around. I see my areolas swallow their fingertips as I watch them shift to slapping my pecs together. Their hands slip along my sweat drenched flesh. As they violently jostle my muscles around I feel their hands repeated lose grip. With each loss, their greedy hands squeeze back onto my pecs. Each time they slip, their finger tip also slips out of my swollen areolas. Their lost grip plunges my nipple back out into the cool air. They feel my nipples pulsate inside each time they impatiently grope back onto my pectorals and thrust their fingers deep into my puffy areolas. 

They finish me off by holding my pecs in place in a tight grip and tucking my hard tips into their engulfing areolas. I hold as still as possible to focus exclusively on the sensation inside my areolas. I hold my breath and they fingers insert and wildly navigate inside. They dig each finger tip in and slide it out against the muscle mass held in place. They slip their fingertips, wet from my own perspiration. Then they insert each thumb inside and wiggle the tip of my nipples up and down while encased by fat areolas. The thumbs, swallowed by my bulging areolas, graze across my nipples' tips until my entire body spasms and I come. I spurt across their clothes and exhale deeply as my body relaxes. They slowly unplug each thumb out from my engulfing areolas and we watch each nipple spring out into freedom. As I breathe heavily regaining my clarity, the nipples sway against the flow of my bounding pecs. I feel each one uncontrollably quiver while the cool air slides past. 

Their adorable awestruck eyes oogle their craftsmanship. I breathe a quiet giggle at their endearing wonder. Upon hearing me they shoot a glance back up at me and see my prideful smile. Characteristic of their nature, they retract their eyes and look away. 

I tease my coy servant saying, "I see you blushing." Their hands clutch their face trying to hide their bashful perversion. 

I move them past this impasse by instructing them, "I am finished. You may unbind me." 

From their seated position they bend over towards my crotch and reach a hand toward my cock. To my surprise, I watch their hand untie the futile knot I had ordered them to tie earlier. 

** _Afterword_ **

This servant I've captured is truly perplexing. Every stroke, knot, and tug of their velvety bondage was strategically planned and gracefully executed. They orchestrated a symphony of orgasmic rapture solely by the skill of their binding with shibari ropes. 

Is this what they mean by "kinbaku"?


	2. Aftercare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Read part 1 because this will not make sense without that context.  
Aftercare is extremely important in any bondage/bdsm including kinbaku. I didn't feel comfortable letting the prior story finish without an aftercare resolution. The model (person being tied) needs to be brought back out of subspace so they do not suffer undue trauma or a withrdrawal. [much of my understanding is gathered from here, btw (https://blog.gaijinpot.com/uncut/unraveling-the-mysteries-of-kinbaku-the-erotic-art-of-japanese-rope-bondage/)]  
So in turn, Thranduil is brought back from subspace within part 2.

And with that we've finished. I stare without focus in a daze. I must look ridiculous. A king bound in a constellation of red thread. After my climax my entire body relaxes. These ropes maintain my frame in a kneel. All my weight presses onto the red web. I sense the tension is focused along the line connecting my arms to my feet. In exhaustion my head falls forward. The rest of me is neatly contained into a seated kneel strung by crimson threads. 

I see my beloved servant's feet shuffle as I hear them stand. I don't bother to track their movements. I trust them entirely now. I feel a brush of wind pass into me before I see my servant thrust their hand into me. Just as I anticipate a slap, their momentum halts. I seek their face to comprehend what's taking place. Their eyes gaze gently into mine. I feel their palm rest against my neck and slide up to my chin. Their movement is gentle and loving. Their slide lifts my face up to look toward the ceiling. Their fingers frame my chin and pull my face, forcing my head to rest against their hand. They're not choking me but the pressure of my weight against their fingers cupping my jaw is exhilarating. 

I cannot see their next movements. I suddenly feel their arm wrap around my side with gentle grace. I feel their warmth connect across my back and then with abrupt force they grip one of the knots binding my arms and rip it free. The jolt of their rip sends vibrations through the remaining ropes. With my pecs framed in tight thread, they lightly bounce from the abrupt pull. My servant carries on to release each knot while clutching my face. With each rope that is torn free the tight red threads squeezing my pecs loosen. Each jostle of my pecs is subtly arousing. With the last rope torn free, the thread that framed my pecs slips off. I feel the thread gracefully slip off my skin. 

Still all I can see is the ceiling. Just as my jaw begins to ache from the awkward clutch, my servant gently lowers me back into my own balance. My arms fall to my sides as the freedom is still a foreign sensation. I gaze into my servant's kind visage but see them looking down. I track their gaze and see their hands reach for my right arm. We see the impressions left from the crimson binds and I feel their loving hands slide warmth over the marks. They massage the skin so the marks diminish. 

I behold the paradox of this ritual. This sadistic servant that strategically forced my form into a kneel by crimson ropes now undoes every layer of their craft. With each brutal tie of their ropes, they return sweet caressing touches over my arms. With the same concentration employed into binding me, they free me from their design making sure to heal the soft wounds with their massaging hands. I swoon with affection now that I've been proven wrong; my beloved servant was truthful this entire time. Despite the lengths I put them and myself through to expose lies, they sit here with me healing each mark left by their kinbaku ritual. They never desired to harm me. I was so stubborn not to trust them that I forced them to bind me. I believed I could coax them into acting on their nefarious plot. I swallow my pride as I watch them free me from the trap I commanded them to inflict. 

Now I can move my arms and upper body so I kneel forward to meet their face. I touch my forehead against there’s and clutch their cheek with my palm. They continue their gaze down, now working to heal my other arm. But I see their lips widen into a smile. They shift their gaze to show me a sweet smile of recognition. They acknowledge my apology. I've asked for forgiveness through my trusting gesture. After the torture, I choose to trust their will. They show me that their kinbaku ritual is not an instrument of violence like I believed. It is a bond between two persons created through the binding of their ropes. 

They finish massaging my left arm so I raise my hands to thank them. I use my fingers to caress their ears while my palms hug their cheeks. They return with a dulcet smile with eyes squinting from glee. Then my dear servant pulls my hands down and stands to walk to my side and find a vantage point from which to begin untying the ropes that bind my legs. They swiftly untie the knots restraining my feet. I hear them shuffle back to my front and observe my thighs. They locate the knot they will start from. They graze my thigh with their hand to let their soft warmth caress me. One hand clutches my inner thigh while the other resumes ripping the knots apart. With each rip my thigh tingles with soft pleasure. Their other hand strokes my skin as each rope releases. Once all ropes are removed from my right thigh, they massage the marks away. They move down to deliver sweet kisses onto my inner thighs while massaging the pain away. 

They continue the same on my left thigh and I notice I'm aroused again. As they rebalance to stand up, I catch their eyes glance at my cock thats beginning to erect again. They hide their face from me through their fingers. Before they can walk past I catch their hand and pull them to face me. I know they're deliberately teasing me. They confirm my suspicions by hiding a blushing smile behind their free hand. I reach to grab their opposite arm to peer into their rosy face. I don’t want them to shy away from me but they try their best to lean away from my sight. I release them and let them continue their business. They sit beside me and run a hand across my abdominal wall and hear me gasp from their touch. The contact makes me flush from pleasure and we see me erect further. As with the previous ties, one hand smoothes my skin while the other rips the knots open. The contrast in sensation is sensually gratifying. Yet this arousal is different from before. I feel it gradually wash over me like sunlight. Each time they release a tie they slide their palm across my abs, making me gasp from the clutch. Each touch tickles with pleasure. 

We notice that I start to seep again. They decorate my torso with fluttering kisses and brush my cock with their fingertips. I fully erect and take their hand to pull them to reach my face. I want to taste their kisses now. I tug their ear to pull their face toward mine and press my lips against theirs. They respond in kind, kissing with the edge of their lips. Our kisses are soft and light, not engaging anything more than the outer flesh. 

I grasp their hand and pull it onto my shaft. Their gaze shifts toward it and I wrap my hand around theirs. We grip together to let my erection release. I hold their face against mine by holding their ear hostage. We start to feel my cock pulsate with closeness. I tug at their ear playfully. My muscles clench as I begin to climax. I clutch their cheek to face and use my lips to invade their mouth with my tongue. They match my tongue's movements with their own as we pump the climax through my shaft. My come shoots out onto the floor and the remainder drips over our fingers. As I release my hand and set theirs free, I tug on their ear to release their lips from mine. This time I catch their wrists before they can hide from me again. Their eyes well with tears from intense adoration for me; its almost painful for them to look at me directly. They act as though I radiate with searing light that blinds them with beauty. I gaze into their pining eyes and reassure them that it is not a sin to look upon me. I affectionately graze my thumb along their cheek and touch their nose to mine. Their face glows with rosy warmth and their eyes squint with bliss. 

**Back to reality**

I ask my dear servant to fetch some clothes. They return and do their best to dress me. They are endearingly shorter than I, so I help them. I pat their head in gratitude. We gather their ropes and return to their room. I find a decorative box to place the shibarI ropes into. I see their elated glee now that they know I trust their devotion. They clutch me with their arms in an excited embrace. In kind, I wrap my arms around them. This servant from a foreign land has already taught me so many things. So many different ways to embrace the body. Apparently this new one is called a "hug". 


End file.
